


Come Home

by merelypassingtime



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, canon is what I say it is, for a certain value of 'hope'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelypassingtime/pseuds/merelypassingtime
Summary: It’s only been a year since Clint passed away, so Steve is not very surprised when Bucky finds a way to join him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42





	Come Home

**Author's Note:**

> **Note:** In this story Clint never had a family (because: _really?_ ) and Endgame happened but whatever that shit they pulled with Steve time traveling didn’t (because: REALLY?!).
> 
>  **MIND THE TAGS!!!**  
>  This is not my usual happy, fluffy, cracked nonsense.  
> It’s hard for me to step outside my comfort zone like this, so I owe so much to CruciatusForeplay and coffeeandcake96 for going above and beyond the call of duty both beta reading this and just generally holding my hand as I freaked the hell out.  
> And special thanks to CruciatusForeplay for sending me the song _Alright_ , by Keaton Henson.  
> You were so right, it’s exactly the feeling I hope this fic has.  
> The title is taken from that song.

Steve sighed and slid his shield over his back, out of targets to swing it at. The earth around him was torn and littered with bodies and every joint in his body was protesting the hours of battle.

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” he said to no one in particular, knowing even as he said it that it wasn’t true. Physically, he hadn’t aged a second since 1943, but, in moments like this, he felt every year weighing him down.

A blur of red and gold overhead quickly resolved into Morgan, her armored suit showing some wear from the long day too as she landed heavily beside him.

“Hey kid, how’re we doing?” 

“Uncle Steve,” she said, her tone grave enough to make him stop scanning the area for new threats to look over at her.

Her faceplate retracted, showing the tears staining cheeks made red and blotchy by crying. She took a deep breath that was half sob and continued, “It’s Uncle Bucky...” 

It was enough, and Steve found he wasn't even very surprised.

It had been a little more than a year since Bucky had watched helplessly as Clint died, peacefully and surrounded by the family he’d found for himself, and he had never really recovered. Deep down, Steve had known Bucky was looking for a way to join him ever since.

He nodded. “Take me to him.”

She grasped the loops on his combat webbing and took off again, flying west.

As they flew, she started to explain over the com, “They broke through our lines, I don’t know how. One minute they were retreating, then suddenly-" Morgan cut off, her shuddering breath clear over the line. "There were so many of them, and they were pouring back towards the support people. So, Uncle Bucky jumped down from his nest and just waded in.”

“Sounds just like him,” Steve sighed, his heart aching with pride and sadness.

“Yeah, and he stopped them! Turned them right around and pushed them back into a full retreat, but…” she trailed off, and Steve could just make out her sniffling and the calming voice of her AI over the rush of the wind.

It wasn’t like she needed to continue anyway, the whole story was laid out beneath them now, told by the sea of dead enemies surrounding a small rise in the ground where a body lay still.

Morgan set him down a few feet away, then landed herself.

When Steve started walking up the hill, Morgan stopped him with one gauntleted hand on his arm. Barely above a whisper she said, “Uncle Steve, I don’t want to see him. Not like that.”

“I understand,” Steve replied, and in his mind he saw her not as the capable and strong young hero she’d grown into but as the little girl she’d been when she lost her father. Gently, he added, “And I know he understands too, honey. Why don’t you stay here and guard us?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” she said, turning away from the two figures on top of the rise to survey the land around them.

Steve swallowed and climbed towards where his best friend lay broken, the black of his combat suit hiding most of his wounds, but doing nothing to conceal the pool of blood spreading around him. Next to him, Kate was applying pressure to a gash on the side of his neck and talking softly to him.

When Steve knelt down on his other side, Bucky met his eyes briefly before looking back over at Kate. He raised his right arm as ponderously as if it were the one made from metal and patted her hand. “I think it’s fine for now. Thank you Hawkeye.” 

Kate nodded jerkily, then leaned down to kiss Bucky’s cheek before she stood and walked down the hill to stand next to Morgan.

Bucky watched her go for a long moment before he turned back to Steve. 

“So,” he croaked barely above a whisper, “I guess this is the end of the line for me, pal.”

There was no use denying it, so Steve just took a hold of Bucky’s hand and said, “Looks like it. I’ve gotta say though, I never would’ve guessed I’d get to lose you twice.”

“Life’s fulla surprises like that,” Bucky replied, the hint of humor in his voice belied by the deep sorrow in his eyes. “But this time it’s gonna be alright, Steve.”

When Steve was too choked up to reply, Bucky continued, “But I’m real glad that you’re here with me this time.”

Steve barked out a laugh that was mostly a sob. “Yeah? Well, where else would I be?”

Bucky gave a little laugh too, one that quickly became a cough, and Steve wiped the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his free arm.

When Bucky spoke again it was noticeably weaker. “Don’t do anything stupid when I’m gone.”

“How can I?” Steve asked, absentmindedly wiping at his own tears with the same sleeve. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

“You’re a punk.”

“Jerk. I’m gonna miss you.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Gonna miss you too. Be seeing you around, Stevie.”

“See ya, Bucky.”

Bucky looked past him even as his labored breathing ground to a halt in the middle of an inhale. Then, as the last of his breath left him, his eyes suddenly seemed to focus on the sky above them. His final exhale sounded like a question, “Clint?”

Steve didn’t know how long he sat there, holding his oldest and best friend’s hand as tears streamed down his face. He knew that, for all his pain, he could only be happy Bucky was where he wanted to be.

He hoped that someday he’d be able to join him there.

\---

Bucky woke up slowly to a golden light almost bright enough to be blinding and soft, enveloping warmth.

That…

That wasn’t right.

The light had been that strange orangish brown of a sky filled with smoke, and Bucky had been cold. 

So cold…

His hazy thoughts scattered again when the weight pressed to his chest moved and he realized that it wasn’t the horrible pressure of trying to draw another breath into protesting lungs, but an actual physical weight.

In fact, when he looked down and saw the familiar head resting against him, it’s tousled blonde hair shining brightly in the golden light, his gasp was easy and free from pain.

At his sharp inhale, the person wrapped in his arms- his two flesh and blood arms he noticed in passing with that same indefinable twinge of wrongness- squirmed a little so he could peer up at Bucky through sleepy, sky-blue eyes.

“Clint?” Bucky asked, still breathless.

“Too early,” Clint grumbled before burrowing his face back against Bucky’s chest. 

“No, Clint, I-I dreamt you died.”

A lifetime’s worth of habit made him sign the words as he said them, even though he knew that Clint couldn’t see his hands from where he was any more than he could probably pick out his quiet, stunned words.

Somehow, Clint must have heard him though because he met Bucky’s eyes again and muttered, “M’sorry. But, I’m here now and so are you.”

“Yes, I’m here, but where is here?” When Clint didn’t reply, only bit his lip and looked sad, Bucky continued in a whisper, “Did I die too?’

Clint sighed. “We’re gonna need a couple pots of coffee before we get into that.”

“So I am dead.”

“Come on, baby. I bet Nat’s made some syrniki for breakfast” 

“That’s not an answer, Francis.” 

Clint grinned up at him, all sunshine and love. “God, I missed you.”

Again, a different lifetime of grief and pain tugged at the edges of Bucky’s mind, only to be pushed aside.

Clint must have noticed because he said, “Maybe we should go start the coffee now.” But when he started to move away, probably to answer the siren call of coffee, Bucky pulled him back.

“No!” he begged. “Please stay. I need to hold you a bit longer.”

Understanding flicked across Clint’s face and he settled back easily. “It’s alright, Bucky. You can hold me for as long as you need. For forever, if you’d like.”

Bucky only nodded and tucked Clint’s head back under his chin so he wouldn’t see the falling tears Bucky couldn’t control.

There, surrounded by light and basking in warmth, holding the man he’d loved and lost and somehow found again, Bucky decided that he didn’t really care how he’d gotten here or exactly where ‘here’ was, all he cared about was that he was home.


End file.
